Pride and Soup Kitchens
by A True Hufflepuff 13
Summary: Natalie Kabra, now 18 years old, made a foolish deal and is forced to flee for her life. In an effort to reach her brother, she ends up stranded in the middle of the US with absolutely nothing. She's forced into a soup kitchen, desperately hungry, and meets (of all people) Daniel Cahill. Good? She's certainly saved. But Natalie Kabra doesn't do "humiliation."
1. Chapter 1: Love you too, Dad

**READ THIS EXPLANATION FIRST; THIS IS IMPORTANT:**

I adored the 39 Clues series. I loved the setting, I loved the conflicts, and more than anything else, I loved the characters. After finishing Into the Gauntlet, I decided the 39 clues was my favorite series in the world. Then I read the next series, and didn't really like it. Then I read the next series, and didn't really like it. Then I read the last series, with some desperate hope that my precious 39 clues universe would be redeemed and all would be well. I didn't really like that series either.

This fanfic is sort-of canon and sort-of not canon. Pretend that the series ended with Into the Gauntlet. This fic takes place about seven years after that, and I shall introduce you to the current state of affairs as we go along. Hope you enjoy!

~oOo~

 **Chapter 1: Love you too, Dad**

"When we're through with him, trust me, he'll pay up and keep quiet. He won't have any other option."

Natalie Kabra smiled at the familiar and bitter voice coming from her cellphone.

"Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?" she asked. "I'll find the folder. Will that be enough?"

"You'll see, sweetheart," the man promised, "If you keep up your side of the plan, their whole company is going to crumble before their eyes."

"How can I not believe you?" she laughed, "In that case, I'll see you Monday."

"Wonderful. Goodbye."

"Goodbye Dad."

Natalie put her phone down softly on her desk. She glanced over her computer screen and smiled. Adrenaline and excitement rushed through her limbs. Natalie stood up abruptly and stretched, relishing her success. How she had missed this feeling of power! Natalie Kabra was eighteen years old, the wonderful age of signing contracts, and the Kabra family company was about to skyrocket.

She considered calling her brother. What would she tell him? Ian was busy in New York City, managing the American branch of their art business. He'd left her in complete charge here in England, and she shouldn't bother him with details.

Natalie wasn't quite sure Ian would agree with her methods, but she didn't think it mattered. Ian liked good results.

Natalie skipped down a flight of stairs into a long hallway. The soft carpeting muffled her high heels. When she reached the Kabra vault, she stopped, double checked that none of her maids were around, and typed her password into the hidden keyboard.

The heavy door slid open, and Natalie coolly stepped over the trip wire.

Rows and rows of filing cabinets greeted her. Thick safes with locks and security codes of their own sat in the corner beside a pile of boxes Natalie had never been able to open. Inconspicuous looking canisters filled with poison littered the countertop. Simple weapons were displayed on a wall rack. High-tech equipment for any occasion were locked in a huge room off to the right. Oh, how Natalie loved the Kabra vault.

The filing cabinets were organized alphabetically, and Natalie had no trouble finding the folder she wanted. She pulled out the bundle of papers labeled "Douglass, Howard." The Kabra blackmail files hadn't been updated in years, but some of the information could still prove useful. Natalie decided not to open it. For some reason, she didn't want to know what she was about to bring upon this poor man. She tucked the folder under her arm and pushed the drawer shut.

Did she need anything else while she was here? Natalie took one last look around the vault and noticed a folded piece of paper on the counter. It was very strange to find something out of place. She picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it.

Natalie recognized it immediately. The paper contained a very simple email from her cousin Dan, and she didn't really remember why she had liked it so much. She must have left this down here by accident a few years ago. Her throat tightened when she thought of the months she'd spent right after her mother was imprisoned. She had felt so uprooted, so vulnerable, so lost, that she actually printed out this email. When had Natalie Kabra ever wanted a hardcopy?

Natalie re-read the introduction. It wasn't that nice of an email. It was a very normal Daniel Cahill gesture. Still, she kept reading, and she remembered that she once knew these lines by heart.

She reached the last paragraph and accidentally crumpled the paper beneath her white knuckles. Her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw so hard.

"…Mostly, I wrote this letter to tell you that I think you're brave. I used to think you and your mom were exactly alike. It definitely takes guts to leave the path your mom was dragging you down. I am sure you are still the proud snotty Prada princess you always meant to be, but I know what it's like to have your world yanked from under your feet…"

The paper floated to the floor and Natalie covered her face. Her breathing was even but her hands were shaking. The folder of blackmail material slipped from her arm and spilled all over the floor, but she didn't really care about that right now. In a moment, she was back upstairs, and she'd retrieved her phone from her desk.

"Hello?"

"Dad," she said quietly and evenly, "I've changed my mind."

"What?"

"I'd rather not go through with this business deal." Apprehension suddenly crept through the girl's chest, "I'm not going to get arrested like mom. This isn't how Natalie Kabra's going to do things."

"The Kabras are above the law," her father snorted disdainfully, "Your mother's insane and she's in prison because of her own carelessness. If you do what I say, there's no way this will go sour."

"Jail isn't the only thing I'm concerned with," said Natalie, "Listen, I'm out. I'm pulling all the plugs. Are you going to let me stop those transactions? I don't want to do this the hard way."

There was a pause, and when she heard her father's voice again it was cold and deadly.

"Go ahead, sweetheart. I only regret that I won't be there to see your successes."

He hung up, and Natalie took a breath of relief.

"That wasn't so bad," she told herself. The nagging feeling in the back of her head was pushed away.

"I think you're brave…you and your mom were exactly alike… I know what it's like to have your world yanked from under your feet…"

Natalie knew what it was like. She did, didn't she? It was a hard time to forget. Had she learned anything at all?

Had she?

She certainly stopped paying attention. She stopped caring. That meant she stepped right back on the path she assumed she'd left.

"Hello everyone," Natalie whispered halfheartedly, "It's me, the next Isabel Kabra."

She slammed the old email onto her desk. Natalie Kabra was not so easily beat. She would find the figurative line drawn in the sand and she would not cross it one more time.

It was a curious idea. She wasn't even sure how good "good" was. Did this mean NOT yelling at the maid when she left a stray hair on her custom design outfit? Whatever she had to do, though, she was resolved to do.

The gravity of the situation fell on Natalie all at once, and the tired girl decided she really needed a hot shower.

She could think about this later. She was supposed to have a supper meeting with some French businessman and she probably needed to glance over some numbers as well.

~oOo~

Her shower did make her feel better. It didn't calm her down as much as it distracted her. That was alright. Her goal at the moment was composure. She could think things through later.

Natalie studied her cherry red blouse in the mirror and stepped into her shoes. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders in thick graceful curls.

"Bartholomew?" she called, pushing the door of her room open and peering down the long hallway. Her servant's face appeared at the end of the hall. He looked incredibly nervous, and she smirked. She should really go easier on her staff, but they acted so funny when they were afraid she'd fire them.

"I've given you a list of the papers we need for the meeting. Print them off. Double sided, paperclips not staples, use good paper but for heavens' sake don't print it off on cardstock. If you give me the stuff in a cream colored folder again I swear I will vomit; I want a plain white one and after the dinner I want sherbet instead of vanilla ice cream. I don't want a checkbook, just three blue checks."

Natalie trailed off, trying to place an unusual but very familiar smell. She stared curiously at the trembling servant. What was it? It was so faint, but her muscles had tensed out of instinct.

Cyclonite?

Natalie's eyes widened. Bartholomew reached for his belt. How had she'd been fooled so easily? There was no more time. Natalie slammed her door and dove under her bed just before the room exploded.

Natalie knew exactly what was going on and she marveled that she hadn't seen it coming. She'd just backed out of a deal with her father. She hadn't called off the operation at all, she'd only made herself an obstacle. Now she stood between her father and a chance for power and wealth. Bad place to be.

Natalie crawled out from under the damaged bed, coughing and coughing through the clouds of dust. She'd given her father too much access. He'd given her too much information.

"Ian," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry."

Her bedside table had been reduced to splinters. She tugged at the broken drawer and retrieved her dart gun. Slowly, she walked towards the gaping hole in the plaster wall where the door used to be.

"How much did he pay you?" she called hoarsely, "How much did he promise for killing me, Bartholomew?"

A bullet punctured the crumbling wall and a gunshot echoed through the room. Natalie steeled herself and stepped out into the open. Another bullet buzzed past her leg and another loud crack rang in the air. She didn't move. Calmly, quickly, she raised her own gun, took aim, and fired one silent shot. The wall behind her took hole after hole. Luckily for her, Bartholomew had an awful aim.

The spinning dart sailed through the air and hit the older servant below his collarbone. The gun fell to the ground. The man ran a feeble hand down his neck then collapsed in a neatly uniformed heap.

"Sorry for that," Natalie whispered venomously. Footsteps came from the staircase on the left. Natalie's stomach twisted. Her father would stop at nothing. Perhaps she could take on a few bribed servants, but bounty hunters would be tougher. The longer she stayed the more dangerous things became.

Natalie knew already what she had to do. The elevators were too slow, the fire escape was too exposed, and that meant there was only one possible exit. She turned left and sprinted towards the staircase.

A surprised maid screamed as Natalie slammed into her. The maid crumpled but Natalie's momentum kept her from stopping. She ducked and rolled sideways down a few stairs, covering her head with her arms. Three other people tumbled over themselves trying to get out of her way. Natalie stood up easily and looked back at her worried staff. Were these people trying to kill her too? She didn't waste time to find out.

Natalie sped down the stairs. She used the railing to swing herself around the corners and tried to reload her dart gun without slowing down. The stairs finally ended. She raced for the exit.

It hadn't been easy to build a private runway on the outskirts of London. Natalie decided it had been worth every penny. It seemed like a necessity when she built it, but her perception of "necessity" was changing. Today the lack of airport security and London traffic might just save her life.

Natalie's jet was already on the runway and her pilot was cleaning off the windshield. Dread settled in the pit of Natalie's stomach. She didn't like being in the open with a red shirt on. She didn't like doubting the loyalty of her staff. Natalie brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder and kept walking across the pavement. There was nothing else to do.

The pilot looked up. When he saw her, his face filled with alarm.

"Miss Kabra! I beg your pardon." The pilot climbed down the ladder so fast that he dropped his bucket and spilled soapy water all over the ground.

"I thought we weren't leaving for another hour. Miss Kabra, what has happened to you?"

Natalie looked down at herself and winced. Her skirt was torn in three different places. Her hose was shredded. Her red shirt was covered in drywall dust.

"Long story," Natalie said. "Made a bad decision." She studied her pilot's expression. Could she trust him? She shouldn't. He could easily betray her. He could lock her in her cabin and fly to Brazil, or shoot her as soon as her back was turned and her escape routes were gone.

"I'll call Ronald," the pilot said, "You need to get out of here?"

Natalie nodded silently.

"Get in, quick."

The pilot picked up his black backpack, unzipped it, and dug out his walkie-talkie.

"Ronald, do you copy?"

"I copy."

"Need you at the jet now. Taking off in five. Over."

"Roger that. Over and out."

Natalie stood rooted to the concrete, still unsure of her pilot's loyalty. She gripped her dart gun and wondered if trusting him was even a choice.

"Could you take me to New York City?" she asked.

"New York City?"

"I want to find my brother."

"Have to fill up the tank," he said, "We have the gas to get you over the English Channel, not the Atlantic. But we'll get you there."

The young copilot came running towards them across the runway.

"Ronald!" her pilot shouted, "Help me with the fuel!"

Natalie looked back at her house, calculating her options. Everything was uncertain, everything was dangerous, but her odds were better in the plane.

"I'll pay you two a lot for this," she shouted back at the pilots.

Natalie scrambled up the stepladder and closed the cabin door behind her.

"This is so rash," she whispered, running her fingers along the doorframe and looking around at the beautiful cabin. Fear pulsed through her chest, but her mind swam with confidence and determination.

Soon enough, everything would be resolved. She would be free, or she would be dead.

~oOo~

 **Author's Note:** AAAAAHHHHH I AM SO EXCITED GUYS! This idea has been brewing in my head for half a year. I've got so many more scenes to write and so many more characters to work with and I will stop this A/N soon just so I can get back to writing.

I hope you liked the beginning. :) **Please review!** I'd love to hear ANYTHING. What you think should be improved, what you liked already, what you think will happen, what your favorite part was, or even "good story, update pls." Reviews make me even more excited about this story than I already am (although I am already pretty excited.)

Estimated update time: July 20


	2. Bonus Chapter 1: The Entire Letter

**Chapter 1.5: The Entire Email**

(Not a real chapter)

A school assignment on writing letters. Includes teacher notes, because she wrote on the page with red pen and it couldn't be erased. Illustrates that Dan has grown up, or that he hasn't grown up at all. You decide.

.

November 2, 2009

Ms. Natalie Kabra

31 Kabra Road

London, WC2N

England

 ** _Name & address formatted correctly but WRONG. This section is supposed to be YOUR address, not the recipient's. (-5)_**

Dear Natalie,

I am writing this letter as a school assignment. I couldn't think of anyone else to write to.

 ** _Introduction needs revision. Be more polite. (-2)_**

School is horrible. I wish I was in England with a private tutor learning useful things like you are. Amy is forcing me to go to school because she thinks I need a social life and an education. If you have any time, please write her and tell her that things like knife throwing, poison identification and martial arts are more important.

 ** _Private tutors teach grammar as well_**

The good news, though, is that Amy and Nellie finally let me get a snake. It's only a corn snake, but it's a start. I've named it Beatrice. She wouldn't eat the frozen mice at first, so Amy tried microwaving them and they exploded. It was great. Nellie wouldn't let us keep the microwave though. Beatrice is a perfect angel. I've taken her to school three times. I wrap her around my arm and put on a really loose longsleeved shirt. She'll stay there the whole day, and no one but me knows she's there.

 ** _(-5)_**

I hope you are doing well. Amy kept me updated on your mom's trial and the question of custody with you and Ian. Glad everything went smoothly. Mostly, I wrote this letter to tell you that I think you're brave. I used to think you and your mom were exactly alike. (You _have_ tried to murder me several times.) It definitely takes guts to leave the path your mom was dragging you down.

 ** _Inappropriate personal subject (-3)_**

I am sure you are still the proud snotty Prada princess you always meant to be, but I know what it's like to have your world yanked from under your feet. Even though we aren't really friends, and I know you don't really need it, I send you my sympathies and support.

 ** _You have an insulting way of expressing heartfelt sympathy. (-1)_**

Also, Natalie, no one will judge you if you don't visit her.

Best regards,

Daniel Cahill

 ** _Good job on spelling and grammar. Choose better subjects. (Please don't send this letter.) DO NOT BRING SNAKES TO SCHOOL._**

 ** _Final grade: 74% C_**

~oOo~

Estimated Update time: Still June 20th. Probably won't be early. This is not the chapter I promised you, by the way, this is just a bonus. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Chapter 3: Brothers are Really Great

**Chapter 2: Brothers are Really Great**

Natalie stumbled as the jet left the runway. She grabbed a cabinet for support and watched the door to the cockpit carefully. Her dart gun was still in her hand, and her finger was inches from the trigger. Was she safe?

Ten minutes passed. The aircraft rose above the clouds. Natalie watched the pilots set their course through the tiny window into the cockpit, and slowly began to relax. She slumped into a leather recliner and ran her shaking fingers through her hair.

First, she would call Ian. There was a phone on the wall, and a book of contacts on the shelf beside it. She looked Ian's cellphone up and punched his number into the number pad.

"Pick up," she whispered.

"Hello?"

"Ian, it's Natalie," Natalie said urgently.

"Good morning, dear sister. How are things in London?"

"Morning?" Natalie looked at the clock on the wall, a bit bewildered. It was three thirty in the afternoon.

"Ian, I'm in the jet. Can I come visit you?"

"You alright?"

Natalie's voice was shaking. "I'm really sorry," she said. "I'm really dumb and I didn't know things would turn out this way and I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Tell me now. What happened? Do you have all your limbs?"

"Dad called me."

"I assume he didn't call for a nice chat."

"He called a while ago and I thought he could help. He planned to take down one of our competitors- you know the art dealers in Emmett Studios?"

"The only company managing to steal a few of our clients?"

"Sure. That's the one. I thought it sounded great. You know the gig. Blackmailing, causing business scandals, slicing off major sources of income, and filching a few million dollars right before the company crumbles. He let me in on the plan because he needed information and resources."

Ian breathed something unintelligible on the other end. "What went wrong?"

"I backed out." Natalie said in a small voice.

"You backed out of a deal with Dad?"

"Yes."

"Wow." There was a long pause, then he spoke again. "Why?"

Natalie didn't answer.

"Scared?"

"No," Natalie said. "I'm scared now though."

"What's the deal right now?"

"There's probably a price on my head. Servants tried to kill me. Can I come to your place?"

"Natalie," Ian said, sounding upset, "Natalie, I'm not home. I'm in California. Los Angles. I'm in a car on the way to a meeting. There's a pistol under my seat but that's literally all the protection I've got. And I couldn't swear on my staff's loyalty either."

"Oh," Natalie whimpered. "Ok."

Ian swore. "Natalie, I'm cancelling my meeting and I'm going to figure something out. See if you can make it to California. Call me back if you've got an update or a plan or something. I'm going to try and find some people. We'll work this out. Got it?"

"Got it," Natalie said.

"And Natalie?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't make any more deals with Dad."

"I won't."

"Bye."

"Bye Ian."

Natalie hung up and put her face in her hands. Her pilots had not betrayed her yet. Ian would help her.

The pilots still seemed to be on her team. She asked them to change course to California, then walked back to the cabin and threw open all the cabinets. She pulled her billowing red sleeves up to her elbows and put everything she could find on the square dining table in the corner of the room.

A dart gun with three darts.  
Six packs of peanut butter crackers.  
Two Cox's Orange Pippin apples.  
An envelope stuffed with five and ten pound notes.  
An envelope stuffed with five and ten euro notes.  
A hard cover copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens.  
An extra pair of high heels.  
A spiral bound notebook with lined paper.  
Three gel pens.

"This is pathetic," Natalie muttered, as she finished scratching "Three gel pens" onto her notepaper. She rolled an apple around under her palm.

"No American money," she affirmed. "No pocketbook. No extra ammo." She swallowed. "No passport."

How could she make a plan with an inventory like this? She twirled her dart gun between her fingers and stared at the door to the cockpit.

She was stuck. It was up to Ian now.

She looked back down at Great Expectations thoughtfully. Nine more hours.

~oOo~

The engines let out an unnatural roar and woke Natalie from her four-hour nap. She sat up abruptly and almost fell off the jet's pull-out bed. She hastily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. There were book-shaped dents in her cheek.

The jet was losing altitude quickly. Clouds flashed by the windows and the wings rocked in the wind. Were they in California already? Natalie pulled her shoes on and stood up. Ian had called to tell her he'd meet the jet at the airport in Compton.

The dreary grey buildings of the city grew closer and closer. The sun's glare forced Natalie's eyes into tiny slits. The sky was still blue, even though it was most certainly the middle of the night.

Natalie frowned. Something was off. She stepped closer to the window and looked down at the city.

This wasn't Compton. This wasn't even California.

"PILOT," Natalie called, banging on the door, "Where are we?"

The young copilot opened the door for her. His shirt was wrinkled, his thick brown hair needed combing, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Kansas City, ma'am. We've got to fuel up."

"You didn't fuel up back in London?"

"Fuel only lasts so long. Tank's empty. Seems like you fellows in the elite class can't wrap your heads around simple matters like re-fueling and brushing your teeth and sleeping. This plane won't fly without gas no matter how much money you whack down on the table."

Natalie had fired at least 80 people in her short pampered life, and she wasn't afraid to do it again. Nobody talked to Natalie Kabra that way. Was he going to take that back? Was he going to apologize? The cabin was silent. Apparently he wasn't. The older pilot snuck a glance over his shoulder. Natalie half expected him to tell his counterpart off, but he turned around and went right back to flying the plane.

Natalie considered her options. She could chew him out. She could fire his brother. She could hit him in the face or kick him in the shins or melt through his skull with her bloodcurdling stare.

She didn't do any of those things. She didn't know why.

Her impatient fingers tapped her skirt. Her eyes wandered to the floor. She let his insolence go and focused on the new information. They needed fuel. They weren't even close to California. Her crew was exhausted.

She took a breath, let it out, and nodded apologetically at the copilot.

"I don't have American cash," Natalie admitted. "I don't have a credit card either, so I can't pay for fuel. To be honest, I'm not even supposed to be in this country. My passport's still in London. We were going to figure legal business out when Ian was here to wave his money around and snap his influential fingers."

Ronald nodded. "Don't worry, Miss Kabra," he said, "We called the airport and bought fuel hours ago. They know we're coming. We'll hide you in the cabinets if we have to."

"Everything's taken care of?" Natalie asked, not daring to believe it.

"That's why you pay us, isn't it? You expect us to take care of stuff. Well, we took care of it."

"Tha- er, thanks," Natalie said. "I said I'd pay you a lot. I really will. I owe you."

"Yeah," Ronald sighed, "I'm counting on it. Listen, we're landing soon. I need to get back in the cockpit. See you in a while."

Ronald closed the door and sat back down. Natalie couldn't help a proud smile. She'd just done something nice. She'd just let the copilot slide, even though he had sassed her. She was a good person. She was not Isabel Kabra at all.

The jet's loud engines were barely audible through the cabin walls. Natalie glanced out the window and watched the city spin beneath them. Kansas City.

She couldn't help feeling nervous. This was an unexpected loop in her plan. Her pilots seemed to have everything figured out, but she couldn't be sure.

They'd called the airport hours ago.

The airport expected them.

Warning bells were going off in Natalie's head, and this time, she paid attention to them. Natalie knew her father was working desperately to try and pick out her location. She'd been careful not to leave any crumb trails. Would a pilot's simple phone call be enough to pin down her location?

Surely not. She could be flying to Russia, for all her father knew. Nothing connected her to the Kansas City airport. Nothing except a small radio transmission

 _And money._

Natalie's heart dropped to her stomach. Her pilots had probably bought the fuel by transferring money from her bank account. Was that enough to give away her location? Hopefully her father couldn't track her purchases. She was still safe, wasn't she?

Safe or not, she was definitely uneasy. She decided to pack her things, in case she had to make a run for it.

Natalie picked up her feather pillow and mercilessly yanked it out of the silk pillowcase. Everything she'd collected was still on the table, so she scraped it all into the makeshift bag.

Three packs of peanut butter crackers. One apple. Two envelopes full of useless money. Great Expectations. An extra pair of high heels. A notebook. Three pens. She twisted her pillowcase shut and knotted it near the top. She checked the window again.

The jet circled twice before it finally straightened and began its landing. Rubber hit pavement with an awful screech. Natalie grew more and more anxious by the second, so she locked herself in the lavatory, stood on the closed toilet lid, and watched the door through the slots in the air vent. The two pilots left the jet, and Natalie was alone in the plane for nearly twenty minutes.

"Hey, mate, what do you think you're doing? You can't go in there. This jet is not for you. Step along."

An airport security guard climbed through the open door, a walkie-talkie cradled in his hands. The desperate copilot ran after him.

"You're not supposed to be in here. Get out now, before I call and report you."

"Sorry, sir," the guard replied good-naturedly, "We have specific instructions to search the aircraft."

The older pilot followed them, red faced. "What's going on? What are you doing in our jet?"

"Are you fellows carrying any passengers this morning?"

"Does it look like we're carrying anyone? Also, I don't see how that is any of your business."

Two other hefty men in uniforms boarded the plane. The pilots were starting to look anxious. Natalie was anxious too. She knew exactly who was behind this.

"Let me explain," the tallest of the men said, "We're looking for a Miss Natalie Kabra. We know you're hiding her. We're not going to leave the plane without her." A bead of sweat was forming on Natalie's forehead. She wiped it away with her sleeve.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ronald deadpanned. "You've got the wrong jet."

"We've got the right jet," the tallest guard assured, "The jet says Kabra Art Dealership on the side."

One guard still hadn't said anything. He stood with his arms folded and looked around the room. Natalie was watching him very carefully. Finally, he turned to face the pilots, which meant all three of the guards' backs were facing the bathroom. Natalie seized her opportunity. She pulled the vent out of the wall with a solid tug and raised her gun.

The men were all down in less than ten seconds. Natalie hastily unlocked the door and ran to join her pilots.

"We can't fly without fuel, and I'm assuming we haven't got the fuel. How quickly can we get out of here?"

The pilots gave her very sorry looks.

"Right," Natalie sighed, "Too long. These guys will only be out for five or six minutes." She dropped to her knees and pulled the darts out of the guards. They were useless and empty, but if they stayed in the guards, they were traceable. She snapped them back into her gun.

"I think I have a plan," Natalie began slowly. "I doubt I'll be able to leave the airport in this plane. But I can leave the airport. I might be able to disappear for a few days." She trailed off and glanced at the terminal through the jet's open door.

It seemed like she had no other option.

"You two will have to call Ian," Natalie said, "Tell him you lost me in Kansas City. I'm leaving the jet."

"You're leaving the jet?"

"You think I can stay? Reinforcements will show up two minutes from now. These guys will wake up shortly after. I can survive a few days in Kansas City, and most importantly Dad won't be able to track me." Natalie examined the first security guard's name badge, then unsnapped his jacket. "I really don't have many other options."

Off went the quiet security guard's jacket. Off went the tall security guard's jacket.

"One of you is not like the others," Natalie muttered to herself, looking down at the array of pistols, tasers, cords, trackers, poisons, and knives hidden under the taller security guard's jacket. This man was definitely not a real airport security guard. She didn't dare touch any of the equipment, but she took his badge, his jacket, and his cap. There was a black wallet in his trouser pocket. She picked it up and pulled it open.

A five dollar bill.

Good enough.

Natalie bundled her hair under the cap, put the jacket on over her clothes, tucked it in to her torn skirt, and clipped the name badge over her shirt pocket.

"If you two have troubles, feel free to point out that this man is not a real security guard. He won't kill you. He's probably got a pretty strict rule about collateral damage." Natalie dusted off her hands and picked up her pillowcase. "You've been lovely pilots," she said. "I won't let Ian fire you. When this is all over, you'll be rich men."

The pilots said their hesitant goodbyes, and Natalie left.

It was easy to walk across the runway in an inconspicuous airport uniform. It was easy to swipe the bounty hunter's fake ID card and navigate through the staff-only section of the terminal. It was easy to hide the stolen uniform in a cleaning closet. Natalie pushed through the last set of doors, stepped into the passenger area, and continued confidently towards baggage claim. Her pillowcase swung lightly from her fingers. She acted, for all the world, like she owned the whole airport.

The bus stop was right outside baggage claim, and the Kansas City bus had just pulled up to the sidewalk. Natalie looked hesitantly at it through the glass walls.

"Natalie Kabra doesn't use public transportation," she told herself, through gritted teeth. "Natalie Kabra _never_ uses public transportation."

Natalie Kabra had no choice, and she knew it, so she walked outside anyway, and boarded the awful bus.

"Downtown, please," she said, handing her cash to the driver, masking her disgust, and trying to conceal her accent.

"You got it, Miss," the driver said, his voice scarred by cigarettes. He handed her change, and Natalie took a seat near the front.

Six other people followed Natalie onto the bus, which made fourteen people total. Thankfully, none of them paid Natalie any attention.

The bus lurched forward, and Natalie grabbed one of the disgusting cold armrests to keep from falling. They were off. The airport disappeared into the distance and the tall buildings of Kansas City flashed by the window.

It was time to disappear.

~oOo~

 **Author's Notes:** Half of me wishes Natalie wasn't so sensible, and didn't shoot the guards from her bathroom the easy way. It would've been fun to write a real fight scene. I apologize for being a day late- I needed the extra editing time. Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter! Is anything in the story confusing so far? Have you guys ever had to ride a city bus? Would you drop a review, pretty please? I'd love you forever if you did.

Estimated Update Time: **August 3rd** (this next chapter is going to be SO FUN THOUGH)


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